With Her Educated Eyes (And Her Head Between My Thighs)
by MayFairy
Summary: Quill wants (no, needs) to get laid. Dorothea Ames offers to help her out. Quill gets more than she bargained for. Pure smut.


**This is pure smut. Read at your own risk.**

* * *

How Quill ends up in Dorothea Ames' office on Tuesday morning, she has no idea. Or rather, she knows how she got here (barging in and demanding an update on the preparations for the mission to get rid of the arn), but how she ended up on the loveseat with a mug of coffee in her hand and Dorothea smiling at her over the top of a mug of tea, she has no idea.

"I am _so_ pleased to get the chance to talk with you for less urgent a reason," Dorothea is saying cheerfully. "As you can imagine, one has so many questions when face-to-face with an alien such as yourself."

"Sure," Quill says, lifting an eyebrow as she drinks some coffee.

"How are you finding life on Earth?"

"Life in slavery isn't so different, no matter where you are," Quill replies flatly. "Though at least here I don't have that god awful queen breathing down my neck. Compared to her, Charles is almost likeable."

"Interesting," Dorothea says, and it would sound sarcastic or bored coming from anyone but her. She really does find this sort of thing intriguing. What a weirdo.

"The only perks are chocolate, cats, and coffee. And the accessibility of pictures of attractive people, if one is in the mood for that sort of thing."

Dorothea lifts an eyebrow. "Do you tend to be?"

"I made out with a robot, just because I _thought_ he was interested," Quill deadpans. "I'm _always_ in the mood for that sort of thing. Unfortunately, the intricacies of human courtship continue to elude me, and so I _still_ haven't managed to get laid since arriving on this damned planet. I mean, sure, these bodies are surprisingly easy to stimulate on their own. It's handy (no pun intended), but it's just not quite the _same_ , is it?"

Dorothea chuckles. "You have a fascinating lack of inhibition when it comes to speaking about sexual matters."

"Hey, just because you lot are weird and repressed about it, doesn't mean I have to be," Quill says with a snort. "Besides, the more people who know I want sex, the more likely I am to find someone willing to take me up on it."

"I think you already have," Dorothea says mildly, her eyes making her intent clear, and Quill blinks at her.

"What, really?"

"Is that so surprising?"

Now that Quill thinks about it - no, not in the least. Huh. She's really been missing the rather obvious signals the Headmistress has been throwing at her. (In Quill's defence, she's been distracted by the new football coach's biceps.) And, while she doesn't trust Dorothea Ames as far as any human could throw her, sex is sex, so she's hardly going to say no.

"Alright then," Quill says, and that's the end of that, because Dorothea's trademark efficiency kicks in. She gives Quill an address and a time, then sends her off to first period as though they've done nothing but discuss different types of biscuits.

It takes Quill a while to come to terms with what has actually happened. Once it hits her that, finally, she's going to have sex tonight, she can't help but grin.

Her students seem to find it very disconcerting. Which is a bonus, really.

That evening, she gets an Uber to the block of flats Dorothea had given her the address to. Dorothea greets her at the door with a pleased smile and warm eyes that rake over Quill's body. Quill isn't sure what one is supposed to wear to a scheduled sex session, but she had figured a simple sleeveless black dress that hugs her figure tightly would do the trick. She seems to be right.

"You're late," Dorothea says after several seconds, sounding far too much like the Headmistress she is.

"By five minutes," Quill retorts. "Who cares?"

"I do." After a moment, Dorothea lifts an eyebrow. "Well, are you coming in, or aren't you?"

Quill pushes past her and goes inside. The apartment is very much like Dorothea's office - exquisitely decorated with a mix of traditional style and sleeker, more modern surfaces.

"This place barely looks lived in," Quill says, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack at the entrance.

Dorothea laughs at her as she takes out two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. "Oh, I don't _live_ here, Miss Quill. Goodness me. I do prefer to keep my actual living space private, you know."

"Then what is this place?"

Dorothea shrugs, a tiny smirk on her lips. "This is where I entertain company."

"You have a whole apartment just for that?" Quill stares at her, vaguely impressed. "Just how often do you get laid, anyway?"

"It's usually _paid_ company," Dorothea says. "So as often as I like. But I'm a busy woman, of course, so it's mostly a luxury I afford myself once a month. Much neater that way."

"Right," Quill replies. "So am I the first person to come here just… because?"

"The first in years, yes. I don't have the time for romance, and while I don't entirely lack the necessary seduction skills, it's just rather time consuming, and like I say, I'm busy."

"Fair enough."

Dorothea finishes pouring the wine and offers Quill a glass. As Quill sips it, she takes the chance to lean against the kitchen counter and regard Dorothea, who has moved to gently put her weight on the counter opposite.

Dorothea's dress is navy blue, with cap sleeves, and almost as tight as Quill's. Her high heels match, because of course nothing else would do for someone like Dorothea. Her hair is curled and in the same restrained up-do it always is. Her lips are the same shade of crimson as her neatly trimmed nails.

The wine is nice, too. Quill finishes it in several gulps, then wipes at her mouth.

"Look, are we going to do this, or what?" she asks impatiently.

Dorothea laughs at her, shaking her head but with a sort of fondness on her face. "Patience, my dear. Good things come to those who wait."

Quill makes a 'hmph' noise and pours herself some more wine, sipping at it this time.

"I've been watching you for a while, you know," Dorothea says, her finger tracing the circumference of the wine glass in a way that shouldn't be as distracting as it is.

"Oh yeah?"

"Ever since you came to Coal Hill. My main job, until more recently, was watching over the school and those who attend and work in it. You are by far the most interesting person to grace its floors, even including the Doctor."

"You know the Doctor?" Quill asks, frowning.

"Only of him, but he's been around for decades, and half this country knows about him in some way or another," Dorothea says dismissively. "Besides, he's not nearly so fascinating as you."

"Oh?"

"He's a little too concerned with morals, from what I hear." Dorothea smirks. "And what can I say, I tend to automatically find men… less interesting."

Quill snorts into her glass of wine. "Fair enough. I quite like them myself."

"An unfortunate, if tolerable quality," Dorothea says, making Quill chuckle slightly at how serious her voice is, even though her brown eyes are playful.

The brunette finishes her glass of wine and crosses the space between them to refill it. She reaches around Quill for the bottle, letting her body lightly press against Quill's as she does so.

Quill's free hand catches Dorothea's waist, holding her there, and Dorothea looks at her with faint surprise. When Quill tries to close the small gap between their faces, Dorothea leans away for a moment, something a little like alarm flashing through her eyes.

But then it's gone, and when Quill tries again, she lets Quill kiss her.

It's slow, and experimental, but not soft. Dorothea lets out a needy sigh against Quill's mouth, before kissing back, hard, taking control and putting down the wine bottle so she has a hand free to slide up Quill's neck and into her hair.

It's over quicker than Quill would have preferred. Dorothea leans away and goes back to refilling her wine glass. She takes a sip without moving away from Quill, the side of her body still pressed up against her.

Her wine glass in her left hand, Dorothea uses her right to delicately take Quill's chin between her fingers.

"You are so very beautiful," Dorothea says.

Quill feels heat flood not just her face, but her whole body. It's absurd and vaguely alarming. What business does a compliment have, affecting her in such a way? It's just a nice adjective.

But after being called _terrorist_ and _heartless_ and countless other awful things by that ungrateful prince and his wretched mother over the months since the arn had been put in, perhaps it makes sense.

Perhaps what Quill craves the most is being told that she isn't as worthless as she has been treated.

"Am I? This form is still strange to me."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you're beautiful in _every_ form, Miss Quill. But this one is certainly something to behold."

"Look, if we're going to have sex, you might as well drop the Miss. Just call me Quill."

"Gladly. And you're free to call me Dorothea."

Quill considers it, then frowns. "Actually, I think I'd prefer to stick to Miss Ames, if that's alright."

A gleam enters Dorothea's eyes, which have darkened a shade. "Perfectly."

The brunette takes a sip of wine while she lets her right hand drop to Quill's leg, right at the hem of her dress. Quill glances down at it, then back up at Dorothea, who seems to be waiting for an indication of permission.

Quill also takes another sip of wine and lifts an eyebrow at her as if to say _go on then._

Dorothea's hand disappears up the dress, trailing up Quill's leg, stroking circles on her inner thigh until Quill wriggles just a little from the sensitivity.

"Get on with it," Quill says impatiently.

"We go at my pace, Quill, not yours," Dorothea says, voice serene and calm. It's another twenty seconds before her fingers finally slip upwards to stroke Quill through her underwear. It sends a shudder through Quill's whole body, and she grips the wine glass and Dorothea's waist a little tighter.

It's still so agonisingly slow, so light.

Quill turns her head to meet Dorothea's eyes. They are hungry, drinking her in like she's some kind of fascinating exhibit.

Quill realises that Dorothea probably wants her to say something, to ask for more. So, naturally, Quill keeps quiet and has some more wine. The light touch is nice, but not nearly enough. Instead of saying anything, Quill just allows her hips to rock against Dorothea's fingers a little.

That's all well and good, until Dorothea stills her hand completely.

"Seriously?" Quill asks, unimpressed. "I get that you have one serious power complex, Miss Ames, but-"

Dorothea slides two fingers past the underwear and inside Quill, making her sentence trail off into a sharp gasp. When they move, Quill's hips buck. It seems the warm up did her good after all.

"Yes?" Dorothea asks, eyes wide with innocence, but unable to completely disguise her smugness.

"I hate you," Quill says, scowling.

"How unfortunate." Dorothea curls her fingers, making Quill bite down on her lip.

Quill is defiant, stays still as much as possible, even with Dorothea's fingers slowly stroking her. But again, they eventually come to a stop, just when the pleasure is starting to build.

"You need to relax," Dorothea says. "It's somewhat amusing, what you're trying to do, but also tiresome, for the both of us, I think. Relax, and tell me what you want."

Quill holds her gaze, not wanting to give in, but she really wants - no, _needs_ \- to be touched like this.

She takes in a deep breath and feels some of the tension leave her. Dorothea nods encouragingly.

"I want you to touch me."

"I _am_ touching you. What do you want specifically?"

"I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now, no more stopping and starting, just you making me come."

Dorothea presses her thumb to Quill's clit, just the lightest touch. "Say please."

"Go to hell-"

The hand withdraws completely. Quill can't help but panic.

"Fuck, look, it's not you, I just don't use that word!" Quill says desperately.

"Not good enough."

"What, there isn't any substitute you'd accept?" Quill demands, her heart pounding in her chest.

Dorothea's eyebrow arches. "Alright then. Something else. Quickly."

"Fuck me, Miss Ames," Quill says, holding her gaze.

"Not good enough."

"You can do what you want to me, within reason, if that's what you want," Quill says quickly, "just don't make me say that word."

Dorothea smiles widely, and uses her free hand to sip some wine, as she returns her other to underneath Quill's dress.

"That's better," she says, as two fingers enter Quill and start slowly fucking her, while Dorothea's thumb draws tiny circles around her clit.

A moan escapes Quill, and she finally puts _her_ wine glass down, to grip the edge of the counter instead. It feels so good, so much better than her own fingers doing it out of sheer boredom, as a way to pass the time. This is someone else touching her, someone else valuing her enough to want to fuck her and take their time doing so.

"That's it," Dorothea murmurs when Quill's body starts trembling, leaning in to press a kiss to Quill's neck. "Good girl."

Quill is embarrassed by the tiny whimper that escapes her throat. She should not like hearing that. It should not send heat right to her core. She should not be rocking against Dorothea's hand all the more for hearing it. But god, after all the awful things she's ever been called, she doesn't just like it. She _loves_ it. In a deep and intimate and excruciating way, all she wants is for Dorothea to say that again.

Finally, Dorothea's thumb brushes directly over Quill's clit, several times. Quill comes with a gasp, her legs shaking. Dorothea puts down the wine glass to hold her a little tighter.

"You're so wonderful to watch, my dear," she murmurs. Quill bites her lip, the praise continuing to warm her. She doesn't know what to say in response, so she doesn't say anything.

Dorothea withdraws her fingers from underneath Quill's dress. She presses them to Quill's lips, making Quill blink at her. Dorothea just arches an eyebrow expectantly.

Quill opens her mouth, lets Dorothea slide her fingers inside. While keeping her gaze locked with Dorothea's, Quill sucks her own taste from Dorothea's fingertips. Dorothea's eyes are dark, her smirk beyond satisfied, and the whole thing is painfully arousing.

"Good," Dorothea says. "Now, I think it's time to move this to the bedroom, don't you?"

"No complaints here," Quill says quietly.

"Exactly what I like to hear."

Dorothea's authority is different from any Quill has ever seen. She does not have to shout her power. Her power is quiet, and insidious. She could probably command half an army before they even realised they were following orders. Even without Quill's choice to concede to her authority here, she has a feeling things wouldn't be very different.

They're barely even through the door of the bedroom before Quill feels Dorothea pulling at her zipper and pushing the dress off her shoulders, until Quill is standing there in her underwear and heels.

Then Dorothea turns Quill around with her hands, before stepping back and drinking in the sight with those hungry eyes.

"Incredible. Now, get rid of all of it. Even the shoes."

Quill does, and then Dorothea regards her with a kind of wonder, her thumb reaching out to brush against Quill's nipple. Quill shivers despite herself.

"Truly exquisite."

Quill definitely likes all this praise. She shouldn't, it's ridiculous, but oh, she does.

She reaches out to try and take off Dorothea's dress, only for the older woman to tut and step backwards.

"Don't you concern yourself with my clothing," Dorothea says sternly. "I'll have you remove it if and when I see fit. Now-" She moves across the room and lets herself sink into a lush leather seat. "Come here."

* * *

Dorothea could not have expected when she woke up this morning that this is where her day would take her, but to say that she's thrilled would be the understatement of the year.

She's always been interested in aliens, and she's always been interested in women, so when Quill had come along, it had been as if one of Dorothea's fantasies had been brought to life just for her. Or rather, it _had_ been, until Quill had demonstrated some truly appalling lack of decorum, but even that was fascinating from an astrobiological perspective.

It's funny, though, how something like sex can be so universal in so many ways. How Quill's body felt and looked as human as any other, the only indicator of her otherworldliness being the way she moved, and even that a faint detail.

Now, as Dorothea perches herself on the leather seat, Quill approaches her. Slowly, and warily, but with a surprising amount of obedience. It warms Dorothea to see someone like Quill following her orders, but it also makes her consider something else.

"Now, given your personal circumstances, do be sure to tell me if at any point my giving orders makes you uncomfortable," Dorothea says.

Quill shakes her head. "It's not the same. This is something I'm choosing to do. Orders I'm choosing to follow. It's no different to when I was a soldier."

"Good," Dorothea says. It would be a shame if further emotional trauma ruined their fun, what with that business with the 'please' earlier. It's both intriguing and irritating, but has had a rather enjoyable outcome. "In that case, come closer, so I can touch you." Once Quill is standing right in front of her, Dorothea takes a moment to marvel at the expanse of smooth, pale skin. Then she reaches out her hands and splays them over Quill's hip and ribs. "Beautiful."

Quill has that same reaction to these compliments as the ones before, something dark flashing through her eyes, some kind of inherent need. Dorothea knows a praise kink when she sees one. And oh, how she will happily indulge Quill in that particular area.

"Feet further apart," Dorothea says, nudging at Quill's knees until Quill indulges her. "That's better." Her hand slips between Quill's legs again, seeking out the warmth there, finding her even more slick than before. "Hm, how flattering. Now, from this point onwards, everything you say to me should include my name. _Yes, Miss Ames. No, Miss Ames._ "

Quill snorts. "Are you _serious_?"

Dorothea lifts an eyebrow, and when Quill continues to look at her with such disdain, Dorothea pinches her clit, making her cry out. "I'm always serious about orders, Quill."

"Alright, Miss Ames," Quill says through gritted teeth. " _Whatever you say, Miss Ames."_

Dorothea ignores the sarcasm and smiles. "Yes, things rather do go by whatever I say. Always. Now, if you want to come again, you're going to have to find a way to ask very nicely, even without a 'please.' It's time you were taught some manners, I think."

"Alternatively, you could simply go fuck yourself, Miss Ames," Quill says, keeping her pleasant but mocking tone of voice.

Dorothea's finger trails absently across Quill's clit, making her inhale sharply, and Dorothea tuts. "Now, that's hardly complimentary, is it, my dear?" She asks. "What am I going to do with you?"

Her other hand holds Quill firmly by the hip, and she leans forward to press a kiss to Quill's core. Her tongue flicks out curiously, to taste, and she can't help but moan a little with appreciation. Quill meanwhile shivers at the intimate touch.

"You are truly exquisite," Dorothea says. With the one hand slipping two fingers into Quill and otherwise keeping her spread open, Dorothea again puts her mouth and tongue to work.

It's always intriguing, the first time you do this with a person. It's like getting a new book, on a subject you think you know, only to find that there's so much more to discover. So many little details, what works and what doesn't, the taste and smell and texture.

The best part is always the experimentation of it, of cause and effect. Finding the spots that make a person shudder and sigh - and sometimes, squeak, though it's impossible to imagine that particular sound coming out of Quill.

It's all a learning experience. And Dorothea loves learning, even more than she loves women and their bodies.

It isn't long before Quill is grasping at Dorothea's hair for an anchor. Dorothea pulls back to swat Quill's hands away, frowning at her.

"Keep those away from my hair, thank you very much. You may grip my shoulders with as much force as necessary, but my hair is to be left alone, are we clear?"

Quill purses her lips. "Yes, Miss Ames."

With that, Dorothea returns to her exploration, and relishes how a precise sweep of her tongue has Quill moaning and shuddering. Quill's fingernails dig into Dorothea's shoulders even through the fabric of her dress. It hurts a little, but in a nice sort of way.

Quill's legs are trembling. She's close.

"I can't - I won't be able to stay upright, at this rate," Quill says.

"Yes, you will, because I'm telling you to," Dorothea chides. "If you fall before you come, you won't come at all."

Dorothea's fingers stroke Quill gently, while her tongue is less kind, and soon Quill is swearing relentlessly. Normally, Dorothea doesn't care for foul language one bit, but in a sexual scenario it can be so thrilling to feel a person losing their grip on control like that. Quill's breathless, needy 'oh fuck, oh fucking hell' has Dorothea's body aching for her. But not yet.

Quill's legs are weak and shaking.

"Use your hands to rest your weight on me, if necessary," Dorothea says. Quill does, and the change is vaguely uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, and it won't be for long.

Dorothea isn't sure she's ever been this eager in going down on someone before. Well, perhaps her very first time, but there's something about Quill, about knowing that this woman is an alien creature from another world. She just can't get enough, and although she prides herself on her composure, she can't help but get lost in the softness and the taste under her tongue.

It's almost disappointing, in that regard, when Quill comes. Except it isn't, because Quill comes with a hoarse cry shouted to the ceiling.

Quill's legs give out on her, and she drops to the floor with a thud, her hands automatically grabbing onto Dorothea's knees and her head coming to rest on top of one as she takes in deep, gasping breaths.

Dorothea strokes Qull's hair with her clean hand, while grabbing a tissue from the box on the nearby dresser that is just within her reach, to clean the other and her mouth.

"You did wonderfully, my dear," she tells Quill once she's done. "Oh, and from this point forward, you only have to use 'Miss Ames' where it feels comfortable."

"What do you want from me?" Quill asks quietly, glancing up at her. Dorothea looks at her with alarm, and Quill frowns. "I mean - what do you want me to do? For you?"

"I won't deny that my greatest interest is in seeing _you_ come undone, dear," Dorothea says. "But I do seem to have gotten myself rather - excited. So if you'll just give me a moment."

Dorothea gets up from the chair and pulls the zipper of her dress down, neatly stepping out of it and folding it, before placing it on top of the dresser. She does the same with her underwear, but leaves on the dark and laced corset that has immediately drawn Quill's attention, from where she's still slumped bonelessly against the chair.

"Is now really the time for folding clothes?" Quill asks, arching an eyebrow.

"One should always make time for neatness," Dorothea replies, her eyes going to where Quill's own dress and undergarments are crumpled on the floor by the bed.

"I prefer speed."

"I don't doubt it." Dorothea moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Quill's eyes are locked on the corset, on her chest, with the occasional sweep down to between her legs. "Like what you see?"

Quill grins and gets to her feet. "Your species really does have a knack for gorgeous - if completely pointless - undergarments."

Dorothea smiles. "They're an art form, more than anything else. Designed to frame the beauty of nature."

"If you say so," Quill says, straddling one of Dorothea's thighs so that they're on more or less the right level for Quill to kiss her hungrily.

Dorothea kisses her back, and Quill's hips grind against Dorothea's thigh. Dorothea's hands grasp at Quill's waist and hold her in place. Quill moans when Dorothea's tongue pushes past her lips - she wonders if it's because Quill can taste herself.

Quill's hand slides down across the front of the corset, and Dorothea only manages to catch it right before it reaches the slickness between Dorothea's legs.

"None of that unless I say so," Dorothea says, after wrenching her mouth away from Quill's.

"Look, I'm not going to complain if you want this to be mostly about me getting off, I just thought that you-"

"Oh, I'll be taking my pleasure from you tonight, Quill, don't ever think otherwise," Dorothea tells her, voice low as she bends her head to lavish her tongue around one of Quill's nipples. "But it will always be on my terms. For example-"

She half pulls Quill's torso, half pushes down on her shoulders, until Quill is sliding off her perch on Dorothea's leg and hitting the floor in the same instant that Dorothea spreads her legs properly.

Quill's eyes spark, her tongue licking her lips in a way that would look outrageous on anyone else, but simply looks feral and _oh so arousing_ on Quill.

"Now, why don't you show your gratitude for my offering to help you with the arn, and for those two lovely orgasms you've had tonight?"

Quill reaches out to rest her hands on Dorothea's toned thighs and grip them firmly. Then her mouth descends on Dorothea, who can't help the soft noise of shock that escapes her as she puts her weight on her palms behind her and lets her head drop back.

As she had always suspected, Quill's tongue is skilled and eager. She licks at Dorothea in earnest, yet she's still intuitive, still noticing where Dorothea is most sensitive and focusing her attentions there.

Dorothea lets out a slow, appreciative moan. Her fingers slip into Quill's silky short hair. It's easier to lose one's hold on control when receiving pleasure, and it's important to keep oneself grounded. Her grip on Quill's hair is firm, and when it tightens after one particular lick of Quill's tongue, a sharp little gasp escapes Quill.

Ooh. So Quill likes a firm hand. (Well, she's a warrior, so her inclinations are probably more towards force than firmness.)

Quill goes about sex the same way one would expect of an alien warrior who believes in their cause. Commitment, passion, and a methodical approach occasionally overshadowed by overwhelming animal instinct.

It's fascinating, really. But harder to make scientific observations about the longer it goes on, because Dorothea's higher brain functions are slipping away from her in favour of the delicious pleasure building in her body.

What she never sees coming, but perhaps should have, is when Quill _bites_ \- not too hard, thankfully - and Dorothea yelps.

"Oh!"

Dorothea uses her tight grip on Quill's hair to pull her head back. The blonde is grinning with glistening lips, evidently very pleased with herself.

"Absolutely none of that," Dorothea says to her sternly, but her voice has gone all funny, and she feels flushed all over because it _had_ felt good, but there's no way in hell she'll ever admit that.

Quill licks her lips in a positively obscene way that sends fresh heat rushing down Dorothea's body. "Why not, _Miss Ames_?" she asks, still grinning in that self-satisfied way. "You seemed to like it."

Dorothea says nothing; she simply narrows her eyes and pulls on Quill's hair more tightly, upwards until she's holding Quill off the ground slightly. Quill holds her gaze, eyes defiant and darkening.

After exactly twelve seconds, Dorothea arches an eyebrow. "Because I said so," she says simply. "I can just as easily end our night early as I can draw it out and give you more pleasure than you could possibly handle. But it hinges on you following my rules, and doing as I say. Are we clear?"

Quill swallows, and nods.

"Good." Dorothea releases Quill's hair and lets her drop back onto the floor, even if the drop is an inch or two at most. "Now, get back to it. And no biting."

As Quill's soft, yet determined, mouth returns to its work, Dorothea finds herself leaning back further against the bed, her fingers tightening in the sheets. Her hand is still holding her up, but she's almost lying down now. Part of her wants to do exactly that and give herself over completely. But she prefers to keep that last bit of control over herself.

Still, it's difficult when the pleasure is building like it is, the familiar heat filling her chest and stealing her breath.

She's gasping now, and clutching Quill's hair and the bedspread tighter, and she feels her legs quivering. It hits her that the woman between her legs is an alien, that an _alien_ is the one getting her off right now, and then she's coming with a sharp gasp, her grip like a vice in Quill's hair.

Once the crest of the pleasure falls and Dorothea is self-aware again, she lets go of Quill and lets herself fall back against the welcoming softness of the bed. Just for a moment. Just to shut her eyes and bask in the wondrous feeling of it all.

"Thank you, my dear," she breathes. "That was...most satisfactory."

She hears Quill snort. "Satisfactory? That's what you're going with?"

"Well, what would you prefer? _Of substantial merit_?"

"I think I'd prefer you just use words like 'brilliant' or 'damn good' or 'great'. Seriously, why can't you talk like a regular, sensible person?"

"Hush, my dear. You're ruining the moment with all your chatter and complaining," Dorothea says, eyes still shut and her hand waving dismissively.

Once she's caught her breath, Dorothea gets up and makes for the ensuite. Quill, who is still sitting against the end of the bed, jerks her head towards her. There's something akin to worry in her eyes.

"I'm just going to freshen up, I won't be long," Dorothea promises her, in her most soothing tone of voice, offering Quill a soft smile. She goes into the bathroom, cleans up between her legs, and tidies her hair before re-emerging.

When she makes a beeline for her clothes and steps back into her underwear and then her dress, things get a little more interesting.

"What are you doing?" Quill asks. The slight panic in her voice is rather delicious. She's on Dorothea's hook alright, even if she doesn't quite realise it.

"Exactly what it looks like," Dorothea replies. "I'm getting dressed. I prefer to be clothed when I'm fucking someone senseless. It keeps the focus where it ought to be."

Quill lifts an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" She lifts herself to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs falling open in obvious invitation. "I'm listening."

Dorothea finds herself chuckling. Quill, in her eagerness, just doesn't quite realise who she's (mostly figuratively, so far) gotten into bed with. It's almost… cute, or it would be if it weren't so terribly thrilling in a way that sends a rush through Dorothea's veins.

She's not gotten what she wants most from Quill yet. Which is complete and utter undoing.

Dorothea moves to a drawer in the dresser - only half the drawers are for clothes, the others contain far more interesting things - and examines the contents before making a selection and shutting the drawer.

"Lie back on the bed," Dorothea says quietly, as she turns the small vibrator over in her hands.

Quill swallows when her eyes fix on it. "What is that?"

Dorothea lifts an eyebrow, intrigued. "You don't know?"

"Well, why would I?" Quill asks, uncomfortably. "I've only been on this planet a few months, do you have any idea how much there is to learn when you have to assimilate an entire culture?"

"I _do_ spend my spare time assimilating all I can about as many alien races and planets as I possibly can," Dorothea replies archly. "So yes, I have _some_ idea."

Quill huffs. "Well, what is this thing, then? It looks like a-"

"Bullet," Dorothea says at the same time Quill does. "Yes, that's where this particular model got its name, I assume."

"But what _is_ it?"

"Lie back on the bed, and I'll show you. But I won't ask you again. Head on the pillows."

Quill scowls, clearly not in the mood for receiving orders when she wants answers to her questions, but she reluctantly does as she's told.

"Good," Dorothea says. "Spread your legs."

Quill does and Dorothea takes several moments to simply stand there and enjoy the view. While a part of Dorothea will always be far more intrigued by the possibility of Quill's alien form, her humanoid one is nothing short of utterly gorgeous.

With a pleased smile, Dorothea moves around the bed and sits on the edge of it, parallel to Quill's thighs.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd probably tie you up right about now," Dorothea says, the fingers of her free hand moving to stroke across the inside of Quill's left wrist, which is lying near her. Quill shivers at the touch, while her eyes have become a little more guarded at the mention of being tied up. "You're aware that's something we do here, aren't you?"

"I do a lot of reading," Quill murmurs. "I don't particularly understand it, but I understand sexual dominance enough to understand abstractly."

Dorothea nods and lets her hand stroke across her leg, nails trailing a course to the softer skin on the inner thigh. "It can be a thoroughly enjoyable experience for everyone involved if done correctly. But given your personal history and situation, I think it would be remarkably remiss to restrain an ex-prisoner and current slave, don't you?"

"Yes, I think if you tried to tie me up, I'd kick you in the face hard enough to break that lovely aristocratic nose of yours," Quill says casually.

"Exactly. As it is, I think I'll simply have you keep your hands above your head, please."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Dorothea says sharply. "And disobedience _will_ be punished here."

Quill regards her with curiosity. "Oh yeah? How?"

"I believe you'll understand soon enough, my dear." Dorothea wants Quill more warmed up before she starts, and so casts her eyes over Quill's body. Surprisingly patient, waiting, eyes intent on Dorothea. "I should probably give you a warning as to what I'm going to do."

"Why?" Quill asks, warily.

Dorothea laughs. "Oh, nothing to be concerned about, my dear. But I do intend on taking my time with you." Her fingers are still stroking Quill's inner thigh, and she lets them sweep upwards as if to touch her properly, only to bring them back down at the last second. Sure enough, Quill's breath hitches for a moment. "I'm going to build you up, keep you there, and watch you lose your composure completely. Or, as I said before, to put it in a more colloquial term, I'm going to fuck you senseless."

Quill licks her lips. "You're certainly welcome to try," she says, with a small smile.

"Oh, you have absolutely no idea," Dorothea tells her, smirking. "This is going to be so much fun."

With that, she presses the bullet to Quill's thigh and turns it on, to a low setting. Quill's leg jerks a little, and she blinks at Dorothea with surprise.

"Ah," she says slowly. "That _is_ unexpected. And you're going to…" Her eyes flick to the apex of her legs, then back up to Dorothea, who nods. Quill swallows hard, her teeth biting her lip while her cheeks flush with heat.

"Is that agreeable?" Dorothea asks.

"Oh, yes, I think so," Quill says, licking her lips, eyes dark. "I'll try most things once."

Dorothea arches an eyebrow and files that information away for another day. Then, she briefly brushes a finger between Quill's legs to check that she's as wet as Dorothea wants. Satisfied, Dorothea moves the vibrator upward until it's against Quill's clit.

Taken completely by surprise, Quill cries out at the sudden sensation. Dorothea smirks at the way Quill's hips jerk upward at the contact. She moves the bullet in a small circle, to tease, and Quill's eyes have fallen shut, her breathing sharper.

"Alright, maybe humans _have_ actually got some good ideas beyond feline domestication and caffeinated beverages," Quill murmurs.

Dorothea chuckles. "Oh, the things I could show you, Quill. We have _so_ many ideas."

"For now, I'll settle for this one."

Dorothea brings the bullet to press directly against Quill's clit, making Quill swear and her body shudder. Dorothea takes that to mean she's found a good spot, and so keeps the bullet there and enjoys watching it slowly break down Quill's composure.

Quill's hand grips her own hair almost absently where her arms are still above her head, her breaths becoming more shallow. Her brow is furrowed slightly, her eyes still shut.

Dorothea struggles to recall the last time she saw something so beautiful, but knows that she's only just getting started with Quill.

When Quill's legs start shaking, her hips try to jerk up for the second time, against the vibrator. A small moan escapes Quill, amidst the short breathing, and Dorothea knows that she must be close. So she stops - she pulls the vibrator away, stopping Quill from getting any closer to release.

"What the-" Quill's eyes snap open, and her arms lower so that she can prop herself up on them. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dorothea arches an eyebrow. "Lie back down, arms above your head."

"Like hell. I'm not going to do as you say if you're going to be pulling shit like this," Quill retorts. "This isn't fucking me senseless, this is just-"

"Good things come to those who wait."

"Don't try and give me that rubbish-"

"You have two options here, Quill," Dorothea tells her sharply, turning off the vibrator. "You can do things my way, without complaint. Or you can get up, get dressed, and go home to get yourself off, never to receive another such invitation again. It's your choice. If you're choosing to stay, you will lie back down and accept my authority here."

Quill holds her gaze, eyes alight with defiance. Dorothea doesn't waver. She knows she has as much cold steel in her as Quill does fire.

"Whatever you're doing now will end with me getting another orgasm?" Quill asks, after at least fifteen seconds have passed.

"I guarantee it. One far better than either of your others tonight, if you allow me to do it correctly," Dorothea replies calmly.

Quill's jaw clenches. "Fine." She drops herself back down with a melodramatic sigh and puts her arms back above her head. "Continue, oh so infuriating Headmistress of questionable sexual strategies."

Dorothea's lips quirk. "In a moment. I just need to check on something. Stay right where you are, I'll only be a moment."

Ignoring Quill's protest, Dorothea leaves the room to fetch her mobile phone from the kitchen, and returns thirty two seconds later. Once satisfied that there are no emergency messages from Ever Upward Reach, Dorothea sets the phone on her lap as she settles back onto the edge of the bed.

"You had to check your phone?!"

"I pride myself on efficiency. Part of efficiency is ensuring one stays informed, and checks lines of communication frequently. Now, possible emergencies aside, I believe we were in the middle of something. No doubt you've cooled down enough now."

"I'm more annoyed than aroused, if that's what you're talking about."

Dorothea smiles and presses the stilled vibrator back between Quill's legs, effectively shutting her up. "I'm sure we can fix that easily enough." Once sure she has Quill's full attention - her blue eyes really are stunning when they're so open and waiting - Dorothea turns the vibrator back on, taking it up a setting.

Quill lets out several words that certainly aren't any language native to Earth, and thus aren't known to Dorothea, but she knows swearing when she hears it.

"Oh goddess," Quill breathes as her eyes fall shut again, her hips lifting off the bed only to be pushed back down by Dorothea's free hand.

Dorothea changes it up a little, letting the bullet move across the clit and back, over and over. That and the higher setting has Quill quivering, her hips bucking again with desperation.

"Have you ever felt anything like this before?" Dorothea asks, even though she's 80% sure of the answer.

"No," Quill gasps, gulping in the air like it's trying to escape her reach. "It's-" Dorothea presses the vibrator just a little harder against her all too sensitive flesh. " _Oh._ It's - it's something else, that's for sure."

Dorothea smiles and waits for the pleasure to take her close to the edge. Waits until she's trying to stretch her body out across the bed covers, her hand back to gripping her own hair for lack of any better alternative, her toes curling as she lets out a little moan.

The bullet is once again taken away and Quill whines.

"Oh come on, really?" she says, eyes opening to look at Dorothea desperately.

"It might be worth noting that the word 'please' could be effective in my giving you your pleasure earlier rather than later," Dorothea suggests gently.

"I told you, I don't use that word," Quill says, frowning at her, some of the haze in her eyes clearing up.

Dorothea snorts. "Oh, I'm well aware. But this might be a good setting for you to think about regaining your manners." She trails the fingers of her right hand along Quill's thigh. "I do so love to hear a powerful woman such as yourself beg me for their release. For mercy."

"Oh, I bet you do. But you won't get that from me."

"We'll see about that," Dorothea says smugly.

"No, we won't," Quill says, voice hard. "I'm not saying it as a challenge. I'm saying it because I'd sooner impale myself than beg anyone for anything."

"Does your pride really go that far? And yet allow you to offer yourself to me?"

"Pride? My pride has nothing to do with this," Quill sneers. "My pride stopped meaning anything the moment they made me beg for the lives of my officers from the floor of the Rhodian throne room. I will never again beg, never again say that word you apparently love, because I had to look that sanctimonious bitch of a queen in the eye and say that word over and over in the hopes that she would let some of them escape execution."

Dorothea lifts an eyebrow. She hadn't expected that. And despite knowing that she should feel more sympathetic, more than anything else, she can't help but feel intrigued.

"And did she?" she asks. Quill is silent. "If you tell me, I'll start again."

"One," Quill says, voice quiet. "She let one live. One out of eight."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care if you're sorry. I care that you've made me think about this instead of getting me off. Instead of sorry, render me incapable of higher thought."

Dorothea is more than happy to do that. All the same, as she slides the vibrator along Quill's entrance, letting it get slick before pressing it to her clit once again, Dorothea can't help but be disappointed that the Rhodian queen has deprived her of the pleasure of having Quill beg her for mercy.

It's a mild consolation that the woman in question was slaughtered by the Shadowkin, but not nearly enough of one.

It has been noted by those around her, more than once throughout Dorothea's life, that she occasionally has trouble with empathy. This is probably one of those times, given that all she can think is that Quill's clearly legitimate emotional trauma is immensely inconvenient.

Luckily, Quill is far too busy moaning to notice - assuming she would even care about Dorothea's empathy, which is a pretty questionable assumption to be making to begin with.

"If you won't say 'please,' then don't say anything at all," Dorothea tells her, before turning the vibrator up a setting and moving it in teasing circles once again. A shudder ripples through Quill's body and the blonde squirms, her hands clenching above her head. "You may, however, lower your arms. No touching yourself below the waist, however."

Quill lets out a breath of relief, and one of her hands comes down to grasp the sheet on the opposite side of her body to Dorothea, while her other cups one of her breasts, pinching the nipple in an obvious bid for quick gratification. It doesn't seem to do much for her, though, because within ten seconds her hand has stilled.

Or maybe that has more to do with Dorothea's bringing the bullet back over her clit. With the higher setting and direct stimulation, Quill is soon crying out as Dorothea brings her closer and closer to the edge.

So close, this time. Quill's breathing is ragged, her body trembling, and for once her blue eyes are open. Open and looking at Dorothea, pleading in the way her voice never will again.

Dorothea is pleased but not moved. She takes away the vibrator, and Quill screams her frustration, banging her fists against the bed. In an attempt to placate her, Dorothea lets her free hand brush along Quill's hip, up her body and over her breast, the touch intended to soothe and offer a kind of reparation.

Quill looks at her, breathing hard, her eyes shining with what might be one or two tears brought on by the frustration and overstimulation. There's still a part of her that sees all this as a kind of madness or injustice, but Dorothea can see that another part of her has conceded to this. That she's starting to understand.

It's not quite befitting of the pseudo-professional detachment Dorothea prefers to conduct these matters with, but she can't resist leaning over to kiss Quill in that moment. She takes Quill's quivering lip within her teeth and bites just a little. Quill kisses her back eagerly, with the desperation that Dorothea has had so much fun building in her.

Dorothea only lets it last for six seconds, and then pulls back. But her hand rests on Quill's cheek a moment, brushing hair from her face where she's managed to make a mess of it in her squirming.

"You're doing so very well, my dear," she tells Quill, smiling softly.

Quill swallows hard, her hips shifting uncomfortably as a flush spreads up her neck. "Can I come now?" She asks, and it's laced with an obedience that makes Dorothea feel like she's soaring. It's not quite 'please,' but the word hangs between them, unspoken, where it should have been at the end of the sentence.

"Soon," Dorothea promises, her thumb brushing against Quill's cheek. Quill leans into it, eyes shut and seemingly acting more on reflex than anything else.

That's another reason Dorothea likes doing this. People do the things they usually stop themselves from doing when they're vulnerable and needy like this. Quill apparently craves touch of any kind. How fascinating.

Dorothea puts the bullet back to work. It's on a moderately high setting now, and Quill whimpers, biting down on her lip as the vibrations pulse against the most sensitive part of her body, the part already so teased tonight, so overstimulated.

"Does this hurt?" Dorothea asks curiously, tilting her head when the rather belated thought occurs to her.

Quill nods, those few tears gleaming in the corner of her eyes. Dorothea feels no remorse for this - it's clearly not so painful that Quill wants her to stop, and besides, it's an arousing thought even without how pretty Quill looks with those tears.

Dorothea turns up the setting again. Quill cries out, one of her hands clutching at the fabric of Dorothea's dress simply for something to hold onto. Dorothea allows it.

This time, as she gets close to that peak, Quill really is shaking. Thrashing but for Dorothea's firm hand on her shoulder, keeping her down.

The fascinating part about Quill refusing to say 'please' through all of this, is that it doesn't leave her with a lot of other options. She has to get creative. Before it was that eye contact, asking her silently instead.

Now, apparently, she's turned to verbal abuse. An… interesting tactic, to say the least.

"Oh, for sanity's sake, you power tripping weirdo, just let me come," she pleads, voice trembling even as she tries to put her usual bravado behind it.

"Hardly complimentary, or persuasive, my dear."

"If you use another five syllable word in my presence before getting me off, I swear to the goddess I don't believe in that I will rip your-"

Dorothea lifts an eyebrow and turns the vibrator off, throwing it aside. Quill twists so that she can scream into the duvet, her body shaking with need so deliciously that Dorothea knows the sight will fuel her personal fantasies for weeks.

"No," Quill sobs. "You can't - you promised, you-"

Dorothea pushes her right hip down where it's rotated off the bed, and before Quill can say another word, Dorothea's fingers are inside her, fucking her without a word of warning, thumb where the vibrator had just been.

The orgasm comes suddenly, Quill's head falling back as she comes around Dorothea's fingers with a loud, strangled sob. Dorothea keeps stroking her - gently, now - until Quill's legs stop shaking, and Quill is still but for the panting and the rise and fall of her chest.

Dorothea withdraws her hand and stands up to survey her handiwork. Quill is stretched out, boneless, closed eyes wet and chest heaving. Hair unruly from the thrashing around under the relentless stimulation.

So beautiful. Dorothea smiles.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash her hands and the vibrator, Dorothea returns and finds Quill watching her through half-lidded eyes as she returns the vibrator to its drawer.

"I keep my promises, Quill. Never doubt that," Dorothea says to her.

Quill's lips twitch, something close to amusement flashing through her otherwise exhausted eyes. "You're a sadistic control freak."

"I'm a great many things, my dear," comes the reply, the brunette unfazed by the words. "Just as you are."

Quill collapses back into the pillows with a groan. "I don't think I can move. Or don't think I want to, ever again."

Dorothea chuckles, satisfaction filling her chest. "By all means, stay the night here. There are keys by the front door you can lock up with in the morning, and return to me at school. Discreetly and in my office, of course."

"Why - are you not staying?"

"Oh, no, I never sleep with my company," Dorothea says. "I don't mix pleasure and other forms of intimacy any more than I mix pleasure and business. Things get _far_ too messy otherwise."

Quill nods, covering her mouth with a yawn. "Alright then, suit yourself. More bed for me."

Dorothea smiles fondly. "Sweet dreams, then, Quill," she says as she picks up her phone and heads for the door. "Would you like me to turn the light out?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The lights go off, and Dorothea lingers in the doorway. "Provided you actually survive getting the arn out of your head, is this something you'd like to do again sometime?"

There is a pause and Dorothea can make out Quill's shape in the shadows but not her face. "...yeah, alright."

"Wonderful," Dorothea says with a smile. "Now, _don't_ be late for school tomorrow."

The last thing she hears as she starts to walk away, back towards the direction of her handbag and the front door, is the sound of Quill groaning with disappointment.

* * *

 ***ahem* so, yeah, hope you enjoyed that! Dorothea is such a bizarre, fun character to write. Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!**


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